Jeffrey Epstein, Meet Pierce Morehouse Patchett

A movie whose plot eerily mirrors the Epstein Scandal gets to the heart of what makes that affair so deeply disquieting. What’s more, in a bravura sequence near the end of the film, 1997’s L.A. Confidential even offers a 2026 audience some much needed catharsis.

Adapted from neo-noirist James Ellroy’s brilliant 1990 hard-boiled novel of the same name, L.A. C received nine nominations at the 1998 Academy Awards. It narrowly lost out to the cheesy Titanic for Best Director and Best Picture. But, screenwriters Brian Helgeland and Curtis Hanson (who also directed) took home a richly deserved Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay.

The similarities between L.A. C’s high society pimp, Pierce Morehouse Patchett (an outstanding David Strathairn) and the equally high-flying Jeffrey Epstein are remarkable. The two even mirror each other in small details like their shared taste for disturbing art and a fondness for hidden cameras. But, at a larger scale, the similarities are uncanny: They wield their power through an understanding of the value of compromising information. Both are shadowy, exceptionally wealthy figures who wisely conceal their skullduggery beneath a patina of philanthropy. And they both smugly operate in a twilight realm that blends legitimate business with black market activity, seemingly beyond the reach of morality or the law.

“All-in-all, a powerful behind the scenes strange-o.” happens to be a description of Patchett in L.A. C but it could easily serve as a description of Epstein. The phrase comes from scandal sheet publisher Sid Hudgens (Danny DeVito) talking about Patchett’s illegal porn production, but what would Hudgens have made of the collection of prosthetic eyes that lined one of Epstein’s hallways?

The two mens’ influence operations are almost indistinguishable. Patchett’s Fleur de Lis underground club motto “Anything You Desire” — and they mean anything — peddles the same forbidden fruit as Epstein. Both men offer wild parties, surgically altered young women and underage victims — all carefully tailored to their targets’ prurient tastes. In classic Kompromat fashion once a Patchett or Epstein target is recorded sampling these potentially deeply embarrassing or even illegal wares they are compromised. It’s difficult to say no to a man who can release material that will ruin your reputation or put you in jail.

An instructive sample of how the two trafficked comes midway through L.A. C when director Hanson presents a montage depicting Patchett’s influence in L.A. and a Fleur de Lis party at which women “cut” to look like movie stars mingle with attendees. The low-lit libertine activity moves from louche to illicit when the camera briefly alights on a greying moustachioed older man. We don’t know how much of the party is consensual, but amidst all the risque apparel this man (and he has greater significance in the Ellroy book) is cavorting with a lookalike of iconic 1930s child star Shirley Temple perched on his knee playing with a pinwheel. We know that 10-year-olds at sex parties is not only compromising it’s absolutely criminal and deeply wrong.

Meanwhile, in February in the real world, after viewing the unredacted Epstein files, Democratic congressmen Jamie Raskin and Ro Khanna and Republican Thomas Massie revealed that girls as young as 9 and 10  years old were drawn into Epstein’s web. Sadly, with every new release of even the heavily redacted Epstein files, proof of Epstein’s Patchett-like corruption of officials and his exploitation of the vulnerable grows ever more plentiful. And the complicity of those in power continues: The files were legally required to be completely released on December 19, 2025 yet not only have millions of documents not been released but there are massive numbers “offline” of those that have been released.

Fittingly, the two predatory panderers meet similar fates. Towards the end of the film, as the pressure escalates around Patchett, he is found with a slit left wrist and a suicide note. However, two broken fingers on the hand he used to make the incision hint he may have needed help with his exit. The equally unmourned Epstein’s similarly suspicious suicide raised much the same concerns about who may have silenced him and why.

The striking parallels between the two perps help explain why that pivotal bravura sequence in L.A. C where Patchett’s operation is exposed resonates so powerfully today.

Towards the end of the film, by-the-book detective Ed Exley (Guy Pierce) and natural justice proponent Officer Wendell “Bud” White (Russell Crowe) are finally united by their shared revulsion at what they have uncovered. Their revulsion at Patchett’s scheme mirrors the audience’s when the pair confront the corrupt DA Ellis Loew (Ron Rifkin) in his impressive L.A. City Hall office.

Face to face with the high level government litigator, Exley and White waste no time. Exley requests a full court press investigation on Patchett. He wants wiretaps and bank records. He also wants to question him about the murder of an unemployed actor Matt Reynolds (Simon Baker in an early role) found dead in a seedy Sunset Strip motel.

Reynolds was a young Patchett-plaything trafficked then ruthlessly murdered when his continued existence as a consumable was no longer convenient. Just before his murder he had a Patchett-orchestrated liaison with Loew at the very hotel where he was murdered. Earlier Reynolds notably confided “When I came out to Hollywood this was not exactly where I saw myself ending up.” (No doubt a sentiment shared by many of Epstein’s trafficking victims.)

Like so many high level authorities presented with early claims of Epstein’s wrongdoing, including Federal authorities in Florida in the mid 2000s, Loew initially refuses to seriously pursue anyone as important as Patchett absent irrefutable evidence. Both in L.A. C and the Epstein case accusations are swatted aside — especially when they concern marginalized communities. In what may be the most startling example of this colossal indifference from the Epstein case a recent New York Times story reported someone who allegedly worked on Epstein’s New Mexico ranch claimed Epstein “concealed the deaths of two abused girls by ordering them to be buried in the hills outside the ranch.” According to the paper, it is “unclear” if the tip was ever investigated and the FBI has refused comment.

Loew’s lack of interest in pursuing a full investigation into Patchett is less puzzling. The audience knows that career-ending images of Loew in flagrante delicto with the now dead Reynolds will be released if the DA dares to dig too deep into Patchett’s activities

Brushing off Exley’s urgent requests and believing he is still untouchable the DA blithely moves to his office bathroom to clip some stray nose hairs in preparation for a news conference. (Kudos to writers Helgeland and Hanson for conjuring up this marvellously repellent visual. Bravo to Rifkin for embracing it.) Mid one overly long nasal snip, nostril flaring, a clearly exasperated Loew addresses White who has entered the room.

There, in three appalling sentences, lies the source of the horror felt by the public in the face of the Epstein revelations played out on the silver screen.

They just don’t care. A large swathe of the very officials entrusted and elected by the people to safeguard their lives are just like Loew. Deep down they don’t value ordinary people. To use as easily discarded consumables or anonymous lower level servitors: yes. But equals whose opinions, feelings, dreams — even lives — are worthy of serious consideration as peers: no.

It is this very attitude towards the marginalized and the powerless by people like Loew that enables predators like Patchett and Epstein to prey on them with so few consequences. This is what so infuriates White and inspires one of the most satisfying legal upbraidings in movie history. It is the emotional and moral epicentre of the film.

White grabs the powerful DA by the shoulders, smashing his face into the mirror. Then he thrusts Loew’s now bleeding head into the toilet before pulling his head from the bowl and fiercely informing him. “I know you think you’re the A-number-one hotshot, but here’s the juice. If I take you out ten lawyers will take your place tomorrow. They just won’t come on a bus.”

This forceful reassertion of the equal dignity of all human lives — Loew is as replaceable (and as important) as the ten boys or girls off the bus — makes the spectacular violence almost anti-climatic. Almost. Admittedly, it is satisfying, to see White dangle the DA out of his ninth floor office window till he reveals all the details of Patchett’s sordid scheme. The quivering Loew’s confession sets in motion events that will result in the partial reckoning with which L.A. C closes.

Ideally, we will witness a similarly welcome outcome to the Epstein scandals. Until such time, watching Officer Bud White can offer some solace.